14. Liana
FOURTEEN
LIANA
M y childhood and teenage years were spent being molded by my mother, trained and educated on how best to succeed in the world she chose to live in. Yes, I had the freedom to walk the compound grounds, but Louisa and I were given very little freedom to make our own choices. And so, when Santiago Tijuana took me, one prison was exchanged for another.
I’d been shoved in a dark place where minutes and hours ticked by, becoming more and more unbearable. The newfound feeling of loneliness became my only companion, enfolding me into its invisible arms. Locked in. Silent. Hopeless.
Days, months, and years turned into a permanent nightmare.
Sometimes it was a blessing that I was drugged a lot, because it somewhat dulled the pain and humiliation of what I had to endure. Then slowly but surely, I built a tolerance to drugs, and even that small relief was taken away from me. I prayed for death on so many occasions, having to endure the vile things Santiago and Perez designed for me. It was where my aversion to men and any form of touch came about.
Until Amara came into my life.
At first, she was forced to sleep in the basement with the other kids, but I quickly manipulated Santiago into charging her into my care. She was allowed into my room, albeit under heavy protection. She kept me going. Even after we’d escaped and I began my new life of specialized revenge, I knew Amara would be the one person who’d give me purpose.
And now she was gone.
It didn’t kill me, but it felt like something had started to slowly die.
And I was once again alone for it all.
The sun slanted across my body now, and I looked out Giovanni’s bedroom window, wondering for the umpteenth time how Amara was doing, if she was being held, if the surgery had gone well.
For the first time in my life, I uttered a silent prayer, asking that my daughter be kept safe and most importantly loved.
My eyes fell to my lap, where my fingers were entwined, and snagged on the broken nail. I hated the look of unmanicured nails, something about it reminding me of the darkest part of my life. If I had time to sit and listen to a shrink, they’d probably tell me it was a matter of control more than vanity. But I had better things to do, things I should be doing now if I wasn’t stuck on this godforsaken boat.
I viewed the space around me, scouring it for anything that could help me out of this mess. The room was bigger and more luxurious than the one I was in before. The scent that lingered in the air told me it belonged to a man. And not just any man, but the one who owned the yacht.
I lay in the middle of a king-sized bed with its iron headboard, comfortable white sheets, and fluffy duvet. The cabin was large and bright, thanks to the sun reflecting off the ocean and shining through the gleaming windows.
How long had I been stuck here? Three days, maybe four?
Dammit, I had work to do, product to move and shipments to coordinate. Hopefully José would continue moving product without delay. We couldn’t afford to piss off our suppliers or customers.
I leaned back against the soft pillows and took a deep breath, pushing business out of my mind for now. My muscles and my lungs were still sore, and I didn’t need a doctor to tell me it had to do with my escape attempt.
As feeble as it turned out to be.
But there’d be no more of that. I refused to play the victim or run. Giovanni Agosti would pay for daring to tear down my hard-earned peace. I was done being a pawn in anyone’s game.
I would show him that no one touched Liana Volkov without consequences.
At the sound of the lock clicking and door opening, I turned to see Giovanni. And proceeded to freeze at the sight.
He stood at the entrance, wearing nothing but sweatpants, the waistband hanging low. I tried to avert my eyes from his bare chest, but they had a mind of their own as they returned to take in the muscles spanning his well-defined torso.
Jesus, even his hips were cut.
My brain cells scattered temporarily, and I couldn’t help but admire him. I hated men, didn’t I?
“Back so soon?” I sighed in an attempt to disguise my reaction.
He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, shutting the door behind him, and his eyes darkened as he strode closer to me. I was braless under the oversized shirt he gave me after yesterday’s near-drowning saga, and my nipples hardened against the material.
His gaze darkened as it settled on my chest then dipped down to the boxers I wore—also belonging to him.
Then he sat down in a chair, like a king studying its subjects from his throne.
“I like you in my clothes.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine, and the reaction pissed me off.
“Enough with the macho shit,” I grumbled. “The only reason I’m wearing this is because my options are limited. Since you kidnapped me and are keeping me here, or did you forget?”
He smirked.
“I’ll order you new clothes.” He stood up and moved closer, making me flinch on instinct. “Relax, Liana. For the love of God, please stop treating me like I’m some feral dog in heat. I have more self-control than that.”
My retort was swift. “Are you sure about that? In my experience, men are dogs.”
“Some,” he agreed. I rolled my eyes and was about to respond when he moved even closer. “The weak ones who don’t know how to handle a woman.”
“ Handle a woman?” I snorted. “And I’m sure you’re about to tell me how you’re not like the other guys?” I scoffed, my cheeks warm.
“I can promise you I’m not.” His smile turned smug. “But you don’t have to worry about that. After all, we’ll have plenty of time to get you used to me.”
Typical misplaced confidence. He was exactly the same.
“And if I don’t?” I challenged.
Suddenly, he sobered, his eyes softening ever so slightly. “If you give it a chance, you will. Your body already reacts to me.”
I winced at his perceptiveness. “It’s just biology.”
“Then let me promise you something, wildflower.”
“What?”
“I already told you before, but I want to ensure you understand that I will never… fucking ever … touch you without your consent.”
The sincerity in his voice and his eyes had me pausing for a heartbeat… or two… but then I shook it off. No man was to be trusted, least of all this one.
He intrigued me, even if he slightly scared me. He was strong, smart, and cunning, all wrapped up in a package that could easily deceive you. And then just when you least expected it, he’d attack and shred you into pieces.
“I’ll always have your back,” he added. “You’ll be under my protection and I swear, I’ll sooner rid this planet of every living being than let anyone hurt you. And I hope, with every bone in my body, that you’ll seriously consider my proposal. I believe we could… work well together.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I snapped.
“I’m serious. I want an equal partner, across all areas of a relationship.” His expression darkened. “And I’m willing to take it as slow as necessary.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, clicking my tongue.
My parents’ history showed me exactly what to expect out of a relationship, and I wanted no fucking part of it. And don’t even get me started on my own blessed marriage. In my entire miserable existence, I had yet to see a single loving one that didn’t go up in flames.
“You’re stubborn, Liana, but you should know… I am too.”
I jutted my chin, reluctant to admit that I was warming to the concept. Knowing what I did about Giovanni and his position at the head of not one but two criminal organizations… He’d be a valuable asset on my side, if nothing else.
“You know, I eat men like you for breakfast,” I stated while my brain worked overtime, contemplating all the ways I could use this man. Maybe he really could help me get Amara back.
“By all means.” He smirked. “But if I’m your breakfast, it’s only fair you’re mine.” For the first time in forever, heat rushed to my cheeks and set them aflame. His eyes fell to them and I narrowed my eyes, daring him to say anything. “You know, maybe I went about this marriage proposal the wrong way.”
“You make it sound like you’re giving me a choice.” I snickered. “However, maybe we should set some ground rules.” He looked at me with a cocky grin and I was tempted to claw it off his face. “I want you to help me get Amara back.”
He shook his head. “That won’t be possible without starting a war.”
“Then start a war,” I gritted.
He shook his head, almost as if he was disappointed with my demand. “What are your other rules?”
“I want you out of my business. Don’t tell me what to do or how to run it. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.” His eyes flashed with surprise. “And I want free access to my right-hand man.”
One dark brow lifted in surprise, but he couldn’t know that José had been searching for The Mistress. I wouldn’t be able to rest easily until I got my hands on her.
“You must want him dead,” he drawled. “No self-respecting man would allow his woman access to another man.”
“You’re hardly a self-respecting man, and I’m not your woman,” I challenged. “He’s a business associate, and you won’t touch him, because if you do, it will be game over.”
He considered my non-negotiables, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his head, the skin over his abs pulling taut. “And?”
“And if you agree to all that, I’ll do it.” His green eyes flashed victoriously. Something was still nagging at me though… “But let me ask you one last thing: why marry me? Why not just partner with me and keep things professional?”
His gaze turned cool and calculated, something wild and alive playing in his eyes.
“Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic.”
“More like a dreamer,” I said seriously. “It isn’t a good quality to have in our world; you should know that.”
“My apologies. I’ll be sure to quash it.”
Amusement laced his words while I stared at his face, noting that thin scar above his right eye again. I wondered how he got it. Was it delivered in punishment? Or simple child’s play gone awry? My mother never hesitated when it came to discipline. Lord knew she’d left plenty of scars on others too.
My gaze fell to my hand with a missing finger, clutching the blanket.
It was the only scar I couldn’t hide. A self-inflicted wound driven by desperation and wisps of foolish hope that Kingston would get the message and save me. What a fucking idiot I was.
“Fine, you want to know why it needs to be official?” His deep timbre broke me out of my thoughts, and he continued without waiting for a response. “Because you, Liana Volkov, were the key player in the Marabella Agreements. The improvement of the auctions started with you. Your knowledge is vast, which I take it is thanks to your mother, and you fed that information to my uncle and Perez Cortes who executed your plans.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. How in the fuck did he know that? Santiago would never give credit where it was due. Perez Cortes even less so. Not that it was something I was proud of, but I’d be damned if I justified myself to anyone.
“So?” I shrugged, masking the guilt I still felt.
“So once it comes out, and it will come out, the whole underworld will be after you, if it isn’t already. You will need someone on your side who has the cartel and the Omertà behind them. You need me .”
I cocked my eyebrow while my stomach lurched, threatening to expel everything I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
“I could go to Kingston and Louisa.” After all, they owed me one.
He stood suddenly, looming over me like a thunderous cloud, his dark voice pressing against my ear. “You expect me to believe you’d put them in that position? Let them face the fury of countless, gutless criminals, let them face the possibility of certain death , just to keep yourself protected?”
“Yes.” My voice came out stronger than I felt, but I’d be damned if I let him think I had any decency left.
“And their child?”
I froze, shifting to meet his dark gaze. “Child?”
He nodded. “Yes, a child who was a victim of the Marabella Agreement.”
Raw emotions assaulted me, hurting worse than anything I’d ever experienced before, and I realized it was futile to try to run from the guilt anymore. I knew I shouldn’t feel remorse for doing what I had to do in order to survive and keep Amara alive, but I was tired of it all.
I realized my sins were now an eternal stain that could never be washed. Bringing Amara back into my life would mean transferring those sins to her, and the reality of that hit me so hard I nearly fainted.
I was truly alone. Bitterness would become the only thing that sustained my miserable life. I’d be hated, just like my mother was. She lost her firstborn, and that anger consumed her, shaping her into the fearful Sofia Volkov we came to know.
I was well en route to letting my loss, hate, and vengefulness consume me.
Could I survive like that?
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
My gaze found Giovanni’s, and I knew he saw my surrender. Every fiber in me revolted at the idea of being under another man’s thumb, but my choices were limited. For now.
“Fine,” I gritted. “I’ll marry you.”
“Not the most enthusiastic acceptance,” he drawled, “but Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“However, it was destroyed in a day,” I pointed out.
The man rubbed his face, amusement staining it, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off with a punch.
It didn’t matter though. I’d find another way to escape his clutches. I suspected my chances of escape had probably reduced drastically after the stunt I pulled with my swan dive off the top deck, but I’d beaten worse odds.
He looked like he might say something else when heavy footsteps sounded, loud and angry, until they stopped right outside the door. It flew open, smashing against the wall, and a painting behind it dropped onto the floor, its glass frame scattering all over the hardwood floor.
“What is it, Romeo?” Giovanni asked him, his gaze never wavering from me. “Liana and I have just come to a rather special agreement and you’re ruining the moment.”
“You sure you’ll survive her?” his brother retorted dryly.
I scoffed.
“I can assure you, he won’t,” I answered in Giovanni’s stead. Romeo shot me a humorless look, and I rolled my eyes. “How’s your arm anyway?” I grinned, finally feeling a lightness in my chest after the last few depressing days.
He ignored me and turned to look at his brother.
“The Omertà called.”
The two men exchanged a wordless glance, and I watched as Giovanni turned his back before disappearing from the room.
“I can help, you know,” I called out, but their steps never faltered and then the door slammed. I heard muffled voices outside and knew they were probably whispering like two schoolgirls. For a second, I debated pressing my ear to the door so I could eavesdrop but then just shrugged, deciding I really didn’t care.
I slid out of bed and rifled through the drawers until I found some fresh clothes, then I made my way into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Once showered and back in the bedroom, I found Giovanni sitting on a chair facing the open window as he typed away on his phone.
He lit up a cigarette, and the breeze blew the scent of smoke my way as I watched his tense muscles flex.
“Bad news?” I asked, making my way to the chair farthest from his. Yes, there was something beautiful and enticing about this man, but I’d learned the hard way to keep my guard up. Plus, I didn’t overly enjoy the smell of cigarettes.
“No.”
There was definitely bad news, but that was mafia life for you. If you couldn’t handle it, you could get the fuck out. There were plenty of others more than willing to take your place.
“Didn’t peg you for a smoker,” I said casually, letting whatever was bothering him slide. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you it’s a terribly unattractive habit. And then there’s that small issue of it causing cancer.”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried for my health.”
I scoffed. “If you must kill yourself, I’d rather you pick a quick death than slow and messy.”
He didn’t seem fazed by it. “Don’t worry, wildflower. I’ll be here with you for a very long time.”
“How comforting.”
“You’ll learn to trust me, Liana, and like me. Maybe even love me.”
I swallowed. Fat chance of that. The truth was I didn’t want to trust him, or like him, and I would certainly never love him.
“Why do you keep calling me wildflower?” I asked, rather than comment on his optimism.
He shrugged.
“You smell like wildflowers.” I frowned. “It’s fitting since you definitely behave wild and smell like flowers.”
“Not true,” I spat defensively. “There isn’t a single bone in my body that’s wild.” Maybe crazy, but definitely not wild.
“Let’s agree to disagree.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Whatever.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You should put a shirt on.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just setting expectations.”
Pushing him now was the wrong thing to do, but I just couldn’t help it. My attention kept falling to his bare chest and that six-pack of his.
“What does my shirt have to do with expectations?”
“I expect you to wear a fucking shirt at all times. And there’ll be no touching.”
He appeared amused, although there was something unnerving in his gaze as they locked on my parted lips. My breaths grew shallow and heat bloomed between my legs.
No, my body’s reaction means nothing , I convinced myself. And this… whatever this was… it was biological.
He nodded and stubbed out his cigarette, standing and crossing the room, where he stopped with one hand on the doorknob.
“If you demand that I wear a shirt,” he said, twisting the knob and opening the door, “I have to command that you don’t.”
He shut the door behind him while I stared at it, realizing that for the first time in my life, I needed a cold shower to cool this heat that brewed in my veins.